The Benefits of Friendship
by lilsherlockian1975
Summary: Sherlock happens upon Molly's (only sort of) secret, friends with benefits relationship with her ex-fiancé. He's not happy. When he sees Tom out with a new girl, he jumps at the opportunity, offering Molly himself as a replacement. Will Molly take him up on his offer for casual sex? (that may be the stupidest question I've ever typed!) This one is a two-parter!
1. Part 1

_This was supposed to be for SAW week prompt: Sherlock statement "I am sorry. Forgive me." but I clearly missed the boat on that whole thing. Sorry, guys. Life has been crazy lately. This will be some sort of AU, taking place after HLV. Season 4 never happened. It's a two-parter, written and beta'd (Thanking you, Miz!). The second part should be up in a few days. Mind the rating. It's gonna get hot in here. _

_I own nothing except for the mistakes. Enjoy ~Lil~_

* * *

**Part 1**

Molly had just put on her favourite dressing gown (the fuzzy cotton one with paw prints all over it) when she heard the knock on her door. _What did he forget this time_? she wondered. She opened the door to find the wrong man standing in her hallway. "Oh, ah, Sherlock. Wh-what are you doing here so early?"

"Did I just pass Tom in your foyer?" he asked as he stepped inside.

_Shit._ "Ah, yes. You... probably did." She moved quickly into the kitchen. _Coffee, I need coffee. And maybe a dash of rum._

"Have you and your ex reconciled?" he asked, following closely behind.

Sigh _(triple sigh_). "No, Sherlock. Tom and I are just friends." And with that Molly could actually feel herself being deduced. She tried to play along, making deductions in her head (in Sherlock's voice) as she made the coffee…

'_Had sex within the last eight hours. Hair hasn't been brushed yet and cheeks still glowing. Has that just fucked look._' She giggled out loud then looked up to find Sherlock staring at her.

"You and Tom are _not _once again dating but you're sleeping together. I don't… That makes no… I'm not sure I…"

_"Whoa!"_ She held up her hands. "Don't blow your emotion chip there, _Data_." Molly patted his arm then handed him a cup of coffee. "It's not something I'd expect you to under…"

"Ah, friends with benefits," Sherlock said with a nod, then added, "I'm not _completely _out of touch with pop culture, Molly," when she looked at him agog.

"Yes, you are but that's okay." Shaking her head, she poured herself a cup.

"Interesting…"

He seemed to be contemplating the situation, so she left him to it. Picking up the much-needed cup of caffeine, she sat down at the island and drank. She wasn't ashamed of her occasional trysts with Tom. She was a grown woman (despite her choice in loungewear) and could do what she wanted and _who _she wanted, for that matter.

Sherlock looked thoughtful as he finished drinking. Finally, he got up. "Very efficient system you have, Molly," he praised. "Oh, and I need you at Barts. Now."

"It's my day off Sherlock."

"Of course it is. Why else would I be at your flat at 8 am to fetch you? Go shower. Have you fed Tobias or were you too busy with _Tom_?"

Molly stood up. "No, he hides in the guest room when Tom comes 'round. I'm actually surprised that he didn't come out when he heard your voice; he freakin' loves you. Must still be asleep."

"No doubt you two disturbed his sleeping schedule with your coitus. Don't worry. I'll feed him while you get ready."

She shook her head as she walked to the bathroom. _Such a strange life I lead_, she thought. _I'm shagging my ex and Sherlock Holmes is tending my cat while I bathe… hmmm._

Thankfully he dropped the subject. Molly was almost afraid he'd quiz her about the arrangement for the rest of the day. But by the time they got to Barts he was fully involved in his case, even though it was only a seven, and she spent half of her day off in the lab with him. In the end, she decided he must have deleted the whole incident.

_Not so much…_

* * *

No, Sherlock did _not _delete the information. More like he obsessed over it. It didn't disturb cases or anything, but when he had some free time, which he seemed to have a great deal of since his return from exile, he considered the merits of such an arrangement. It made so much sense that he was shocked that he'd never thought of it before.

Not only that, but it needled him that _Tom the idiot_ was allowed no strings attached sex, with Molly Hooper no less, whilst Sherlock was left to fend for himself. Especially now that John had moved out and with him had taken his large library of pornography. Somehow, trolling his flatmate's pre-searched porn felt less… dirty.

He was a man and of course had needs; he usually just took care of them himself. But the added benefits of a partner… hmm. Sex was much more enjoyable than masturbation, even _he _knew that. He'd just decided long ago that all the effort it took to seduce a woman and then deal with the aftermath simply wasn't worth it. And he certainly wasn't cut out for an actual relationship. But the deal Molly had going seemed perfect. She, unfortunately, was unavailable since Gormless Tom got to have sex with her. _Lucky bastard!_

Molly had always intrigued him. They, of course, had similar interests: science, crime… death. But he also felt an attraction to her physically that he'd always tried, and sometimes failed, to ignore. He could never quite manage to keep that locked away, no matter how hard he tried. Though he had attempted to separate Work/Friend Molly from Sexual/Woman Molly in his mind palace, the two refused to keep from melding into one person. It was annoying but manageable.

Until now, that is. _Now_, he knew that his friend was a _different _kind of friend to that blithering buffoon. _Tom _had the privilege of sleeping with Molly. _Tom _got sexual relief from Sherlock's lovely friend's body whilst _he _had to settle for his hand and a few mediocre memories. _Tom _regularly fucked Molly Hooper and somewhere in the deepest parts of Sherlock's mind, he was jealous and bitter about this fact.

Nearly three months after discovering Molly's little arrangement, Sherlock was buying a cup of coffee at a shop in Chelsea when he saw it: his chance.

Tom, _the ex_, cuddled up with some… _wow_, large breasted blonde, his arm protectively around her waist, her head on his shoulder.

_Molly's arrangement must be over_. Sherlock's first instinct was to run to Barts and tell her but he was a different man now. He decided to take a new approach. She would be off work in a few hours, so he'd stop by her flat and have a _casual _conversation about the possibility of _casual sex_.

o0o0o

Unfortunately, he caught a case less than thirty minutes after he left the coffee shop; he worked double time to get it finished. It still put him at Molly's later than he had planned. He knocked on her door at 9.22 pm and was greeted by a pyjama-clad and freshly showered _(no, she had a bath tonight. New oils. Oh, I've got something better than essential oils to relax you!_) Molly Hooper less than a minute later. He took her in head to toe, noting the cartoonish kittens on her sleep top and dismissed his urge to mock it.

"Sherlock," she said, not at all surprised to see him. "Come in. Tea?"

"No thank you, Molly," he answered as he took off his coat. "Tom's got a girlfriend." He winced as the words left his mouth; he hadn't meant to blurt it out like that.

She just laughed as she sat down on the sofa. "Yeah, Jannette. I've met her. She's… nice."

Sherlock sat next to her. "I take it your… arrangement is null and void."

With a sigh, she said, "I thought you'd forgotten all about that, Sherlock."

"No. Not at all."

"Like I said before, we only see each other if we're _not _in relationships."

"So you have an opening?"

"It's not a paid position, Sherlock. It doesn't come with dental or anything."

"I've warned you about jokes, Molly."

"What on earth are you getting at?"

"Us, obviously. You need a new casual sex partner." He gave her his - in his own opinion - most charmingly rakish grin. "I'm offering myself."

Molly looked around then stood up, quickly walking to the other side of the room. She picked up a small taxidermied mouse and studied it before returning it to the shelf. "Am I on one of those hidden camera reality shows?" She continued to search, picking up books and moving potted plants. "Because if you think this is funny you'll never see another severed limb again, I can promise you that!"

Sherlock followed her. "I'm not joking and there are no hidden cameras. I removed them after my mission." She turned to face him, a frighteningly malicious look on her face. "Mycroft installed them, not me!" He smiled, his best innocent 'I'm a lovable genius' smile and reached out, taking her hand in his. "So, can we have sex now?" he asked hopefully.

She didn't respond for several seconds - Sherlock wasn't sure if that was good or bad - until finally she pulled her hand free and took a step back. "You're... serious? You think you and I could do._.. that?_"

"I'm sure we could. I've pictured it."

"You've pictured…?" Her hand went to her chest, drawing his attention to her braless breasts. "No! This is… is… No!"

"Don't be a child, Molly. Don't pretend you haven't thought about…"

She shut him up with a look that said 'I could kill you and no one would ever find the body'.

And she could.

It made his dick twitch.

"Fine. But my point is we're sexually compatible and I think this would be beneficial to both of us."

"Benefi…" Holding her hands up in front of her, she took several deep breaths. "What makes you…" She pinched the bridge of her nose before looking at him and saying, "And I'm only asking out of curiosity, not because I'm _actually _considering this, but what makes you think we're sexually compatible?"

"We're like-minded. Attracted to each other. You're reasonably intelligent…" She scoffed something under her breath that sounded like 'gee thanks!' "We have converging interests. We're scientists, Molly." He was running out of reasons; there were more, he'd made a list on the trip to her flat. "We- we have the right parts! Why not give it a go?"

Molly started laughing. "That was the sexiest pick-up line I've ever heard." Her laughter stopped abruptly. "Wait! Did you just say you're attracted to me?"

"Obviously," he said, rolling his eyes. "It's getting late and you have to work in the morning." He took her hand, pulling her toward the bedroom.

"Now!? You want to…?"

"Why wait?"

* * *

Molly sat on the edge of the bed fiddling with the hem of her satin, button-up pyjama top (_why am I wearing _these _PJs tonight of all nights?!_) as Sherlock started methodically removing his expensive, tailored clothing. _Holy fuck balls! He actually wants to have sex with me!_ she thought as she watched him untie his shoes. It looked so… clinical, so proper. "Sherlock, I'm not… I'm not sure about this."

He looked up, though never stopped undressing, now pulling off his socks. "Why? What's your objection now?"

She stood and tried to pace in the small room. "Well, we're friends…"

Getting to his feet and untucking his shirt he said, "Isn't that the point?" He unbuttoned it and pulled it off.

Molly was a bit entranced by his actions and couldn't immediately voice her objections _(why am I objecting to this again?_). She finally pulled her eyes off his lovely bare chest and lamely said, "Ah, normally."

"Oh, stop dithering, Molly," said a shirtless Sherlock Holmes.

Just to clarify, a SHIRTLESS Sherlock Holmes was standing in her bedroom, scolding her about _not _wanting to have sex with him and she was starting to wonder why she was arguing with him in the first place.

Shaking her head in an effort to clear it, she averted her eyes. "No," she said. "This is… different. Tom and I had already _had _sex…"

"Quite a lot of sex. Yes, I remember."

She made the mistake of looking back up at him. _Not fair! _He was standing with his hands on his narrow hips and looking positively sinful.

"So, ah, going back to him wasn't… It was easy. This, this is very much uncharted territory."

"Doesn't that make it even _more _appealing?" he said as he reached for the placket of his trousers. "Besides, you've always wanted to."

_Not fair!_

The closure undone, he reached for his zip and pulled it halfway down.

Molly jumped to her feet. "Wait!"

"Bloody hell," he said, flopping back down on her chair like a petulant child. "What's your problem? What could possibly be stopping you? You're attracted to me. You need a new fuck buddy…"

"I told you to stop watching _Misfits _with Mrs. Hudson! That show has _seriously _corrupted your mind!"

"This makes perfect sense and you know it. Think of the logic. Think of the convenience. It's no different than the arrangement you had with Tom. It's just casual sex, Molly. Why on earth can't we…"

"I can't have casual sex with you, Sherlock, because I'm in love with you, you great idiot!" She gasped, both hands coming to her mouth.

"Molly…" He stood again. Shirtless, his bespoke trousers hanging half opened, he took two steps towards her.

"NO! No, please don't." And with that she fled to her bathroom, locking the door behind her.

* * *

_Well, this complicates matters…_

In Sherlock's defense, he had truly thought that Molly was over _those _particular feelings for him, else he wouldn't have suggested casual sex.

"Bugger," he mumbled to the now empty room.

He had thought that having met and getting engaged to Tom _Meat Dagger_ Phillips, coupled with having seen Sherlock high, running his drugs test herself and then witnessing his subsequent treatment of Janine, that he'd completely ruined any and all romantic notions she'd once had for him.

Apparently, he was wrong.

"I hate being wrong."

Instinct told him to get dressed and hightail it out of there as quickly as possible. But that was the old Sherlock, the one who had hurt Molly Hooper over and over again. He couldn't do that, not now. Not after all they'd been through. Not after what she'd just s…

"She loves me."

_Love._

_Love?_

Lowering himself to the edge of her mattress, he replayed her words in his head. '_...because I'm in love with you…' _This time, now that the shock had worn off, he smiled. "She loves me," he said aloud, reverently. It felt… nice. Warming and oddly comforting.

But then something else occurred to him.

She loved him - _still _loved him when she had accepted Meat Dagger's ring and _kept _loving him whilst she shagged the oaf in a 'no strings attached', 'every few months' arrangement.

He stood. "Molly still loves me." Without putting on his shirt or fastening his trousers, Sherlock started for her bathroom. He didn't break stride, nearly tripping over Toby in the hallway. The cat would have to wait; Molly Hooper had some explaining to do.

* * *

"Bugger. Bugger. Bugger!" Molly chanted as she paced the small room. "Please let him leave! Please, God, just make him go and I'll never ask for anything ever again!"

She hadn't brought her mobile and wasn't wearing a watch, but she thought it had been about ten minutes since her mouth had gotten way ahead of her and she'd said the absolute worst thing possible. Certainly enough time for him to redress and leave.

How was this her life? Really, all she'd wanted for her evening was a simple dinner (_check_, the frozen pizza wasn't great but it was filling), a long bath (_check_, the new essential oils she'd bought had been extremely relaxing) and to read a chapter or two of the smutty romance novel that was waiting for her on her bedside…

"Oh, bugger!" If he was still in there, he'd surely find _Fierce Love: A Story of Self Discovery and Sexual Awakening_. It'd be hard to miss the (extremely fit) half-naked man on the cover, nor the prim and proper woman in his arms, her shirt half unbuttoned, her mouth opened in a gasp of pure ecstasy.

She was pulled from her fears by the sound of someone fiddling with the doorknob. Backing up and pressing herself against the wall opposite the door, she watched in horror. Oh, that jackarse hadn't even knocked, he was just going to pick…

Suddenly the door flew wide and a (still) shirtless Sherlock barged in. "You love me," he said breathlessly, a stern, almost angry look on his face.

"I'm not doing this right now, Sherlock."

"I believe you are," he replied, sounding a bit more controlled than he had five seconds before, though his expression did not change. Shutting the door, he kept himself squarely in front of it.

"Move. _Now_." She took one step towards him to… push him, maybe? Though she knew he easily outmatched her, that didn't mean she wouldn't try. Something in his eyes stopped her, though and she retreated. "Sherlock…?"

"You love me."

Though that was the second time he'd said the sentence in less than a minute, he sounded almost shocked, as if he somehow didn't believe it. Which was patently absurd.

"Of course I do, you know that." The words came out through gritted teeth. "Knew it before I…"

"I… thought…" He sighed. The stern expression melted away, leaving him looking confused and oddly vulnerable. "You moved on and I- I got high and you…"

"Slapped you," she finished.

He moved forward one step, then two. "I deserved it."

"Yes, you did."

Another step and he was within three feet of her. "I'm sorry, Molly Hooper. Forgive me," he said, sounding terribly earnest and sincere.

She damn near believed him.

Then he did something downright diabolical - something so irresistibly sweet that she _did _believe him: he smiled. It was the same resigned smile he'd given her that day in the train guy's building. She hadn't understood it then but suddenly it made sense. Well, sort of.

One step had her close enough to touch him, though she dared not. "For what?" she asked.

The silence in the small room was deafening as his eyes searched hers. It stretched. Seconds turned into a minute while the pair stared at one another. Sherlock licked his lips, his eyes dropping to her mouth before moving slowly down her body and back up. She could practically feel him making note of the fact that she wore no bra or knickers (she had read that women should go pants-less at night to let their bits 'breathe' - it might be total bullshit, but since she also planned a quick wank before sleep, she'd decided there was no point anyway). He could probably also tell that she'd just shaved her legs and, knowing him, he even knew that she'd spent ten minutes in the bath earlier grooming her pubic hair for no particular reason. Returning to meet her gaze once again, his eyes were suddenly heated.

"What are you sorry for, Sherlock?" she asked when she could no longer take the tension. Something had to give. He needed to get out of her way or… or...

"For this," he answered. His lips crashed to hers as his hands went to her hips, pulling her firmly into an embrace.

Her hands were in his hair before she could even process the fact that they were kissing. And she was kissing him back. It wasn't elegant or romantic. There was no finesse, more of a desperate grappling for control. Sherlock, competitor that he was, wouldn't concede, but neither would Molly.

Quick as a flash he reversed their positions, practically picking her up to move her to the bathroom door. He pinned her against it with his body as he pulled his mouth away from hers with a gasp. Dragging his lips across her jaw and nipping at the skin just under her ear, he once again said, "You love me." His voice was even deeper than usual; husky and gruff, it vibrated through her whole body.

She said nothing in defense, couldn't really, she'd said it - put it out there, there was no taking it back. Besides, he was grinding his hard cock into her stomach and - _Oh, God! _\- he was palming her breast through her satin, kitten covered top. Words just weren't possible at the moment!

His mouth moved down her neck and Molly felt his nails scraping across the sensitive flesh of her sternum. She wondered for a split second what he was doing until she heard the rip and then buttons flew across the room. There was no time to be shocked or upset about her ruined PJs, as Sherlock was instantly cupping her breasts, closing his lips around the nipple of the left.

"YES!" she shouted, hands buried in his hair. When his teeth scraped, lightly at first, then bit down, Molly's hips arched off of the door, bucking towards him. Unfortunately, his body was bent away from her and she got no relief from the sudden throbbing need between her thighs.

He switched to the other breast, a hand slipping between her and the door to squeeze her bottom which only increased her need. If he didn't do something soon...

"Please," she begged wantonly.

"Please what?" he growled against her flesh.

Molly looked down and bloody hell, what a sight! His hair was a complete mess, his lips were red and wet and oh, the smirk he wore was sin itself. His eyes, however, they told a completely different story.

"Tell me what you want, Molly." Raising his head to meet hers, he moved back slightly. She instantly missed the feel of his skin against hers. "Tell me," he insisted.

But she couldn't. The look in his eyes sent cold chills down her spine. "You say it first. Tell me what _you _want," she said. Reaching up, she traced those impossibly sharp cheekbones with her thumbs. "Tell me why you're in my bathroom, ripping off my clothes and…"

"Because I do too."

* * *

_Yes, yes I know. I'm a tease. A bloody awful tease. But you love me anyway, right? The fic is finished but it was terribly long and it just felt like a two-parter. Anyway, Miz agreed, so blame her. Or, if you want part two sooner, shoot me some love with a review. I'm gonna be super busy for the next three weeks, moving (and dealing with the evil twat who bought this house) so I could really use the encouragement. Thanks so much for reading! ~Lil~_


	2. Part 2

_Let me see if I got this straight, you like the fic, but hate me a bit for stopping where I did. Um, sorry? Here's part two. I decided to forgo responding to reviews in favor of posting the chappy quicker (I'm assuming that's okay, since everyone basically asked for part two...NOW!). Oh, but thank you for all your reviews/comments and encouragement regarding our upcoming move. It's super stressful but I'm sure we'll be much happier. Once again, thanks go to MizJoely for her masterful betaing skills and I forgot to mention that she was an enormous help in this one, suggesting I cut a large amount of fat. It frankly made the fic much, much better. Now, I take it that you all wanted some smutty-smut? I think I may have delivered. _

_I own nothing. Enjoy! ~Lil~_

* * *

Previously...

_"Because I do too."_

**Part 2 **-

As soon as the words left his mouth he knew what they meant. Though shocked, he also felt relieved.

_I..._ _love her. I love her._

_This actually makes a great deal of sense._ It certainly explained his visceral reaction to her proclamation in the bedroom. _And… several other things,_ now that he thought about it. Though angry when he had stormed into her bathroom, his anger quickly died upon seeing her there; anxious, worried almost frightened by how he might respond and he could no longer confront her about loving _him _whilst committing to another man.

"What? You want to have sex?" Molly asked, pulling him from his wandering mind. Her eyes traveled down his body to the bulge in his unbuttoned trousers. "That's fairly obvious."

Of course she didn't understand; he hadn't been clear, specific. The revelation was so new, he wasn't sure he could say the actual words out loud. "You want to hear what _I _want?" he asked instead.

She nodded slowly, eyes wide, worrying her bottom lip between her teeth.

_So many things, _his mind answered but that was a discussion for _after_, he decided. Pressing against her once again, he lowered his head and raked his nose slowly up her throat. She smelt of peaches and honey. He could also smell her desire.; it was faint, but it confirmed the fact that she wasn't wearing any knickers. The thin satin pyjama bottoms did little to hide how badly she wanted him.

"What I want, Molly," he whispered in her ear, "is to take you right here, right now. I want to pin you against this door and feel you all around me. I want your nails in my back and your wet cunt soaking my cock." Her full body shudder almost halted Sherlock's speech, but he managed to continue, "I want to hear my name on your lips and know that I'm the only man who can make you come over and over again. I want to eat you until you beg me to stop until you're so spent you cannot take anymore. I want to tease you. Torment you. Pleasure you. I want to come down your throat, on your lovely breasts and anywhere else you will allow." He kissed her neck and drew back enough to find her panting, cheeks red, eyes blow out and wide.

"What the fuck are you waiting for?" she said breathlessly.

His trousers and pants were off before she finished her sentence. Her bottoms followed in a frenzy of flying satin; the top stayed on as it wasn't in his way and neither seemed to care much about removing it at the moment.

Molly's hand found his cock and Sherlock couldn't stop the moan of appreciation as she slowly stroked him. "Inside me… _now_!" she demanded, her thumb spreading precum over his tip.

It was a request with which he wished desperately to comply; however if he entered her immediately, it would be over before she found her pleasure and that simply wasn't an option. Especially after all his filthy promises a few moments before. Frankly, he needed a minute to calm down as to not blow his load like some inexperienced youth.

He grabbed her hand, wrenching it off of his aching cock. "Soon," he said in a low growl as he took her other hand, pinning them both above her head with one of his. "There's something I must attend to first." With his free hand, his right, he cupped her cheek, forcing her to look him in the eyes. "Do you want to come?" She nodded and he kissed her, closed mouth, just a peck. Moving his hand down her neck, her chest, he lightly traced her left nipple. She shuddered, gasped and bit back a moan. He smirked. "Don't hold back, Molly. Remember… I want to hear you." His hand found her other breast and he cupped it, pinching the puckered tip.

"Yesss," she hissed.

"I'm going to release your hands, but don't touch my cock."

"Wh-why?"

"It's for the best. Trust me," he explained as he let go.

Her hands were on him in an instant. Gripping his shoulders, stroking his back, then moving up to his hair. God, it felt good. Amazing. Had he ever enjoyed simply being touched this much? He couldn't remember but didn't think he had.

Gentle pressure on the back of his neck made him smirk. _Message received, love. _Though he'd said the term of endearment to himself, it didn't feel the least bit strange. Lowering his head, he took her nipple in his mouth. Molly's reaction was instantaneous and very gratifying.

"Fuck yes, Sherlock, don't stop!"

He didn't plan to but he did plan to move things along. His aching cock demanded it. As he switched to her other breast, his right hand reached lower, finding her - just as he deduced- neatly trimmed mound. Releasing her nipple, he looked up with a raised eyebrow and asked, "Did you do this for _me_, Molly?" in a teasing tone. She was so wet that the closely cropped curls themselves were damp. "I have no real preference when it comes to pubic grooming, you should know." He continued toying with her, and himself if he was honest.

"Damnit, Sherlock!" She dug her nails into the back of his neck. "I… I… Please!"

His resolve was slipping right along with hers. Slowly, gently even, he parted her, barely letting the tip of his finger breach her outer lips. He was still trying to pace their encounter to give himself time to cool off, so to speak, and to give Molly her pleasure. Once he touched her _labia minora_, drenched in a liberal coating of her fluids, however, his mind - his most precious possession - shut down and he became primal man: driven by his hindbrain and nothing more.

Withdrawing, he brought his hand to his mouth and thoroughly cleaned his finger. "I will be revisiting that in the near future," he managed to say with a growl as he gripped Molly's arse cheeks, hoisting her up higher on the door.

She held tightly to his shoulders, locking her legs behind his lower back. "We're doing this in the _bathroom_? My bed's just a few feet away," she said between panting breaths.

"Do shut up, Molly. Now's not the time to break my concentration." And with that, he positioned himself at her entrance. "Unless you…"

"God, no!" Once again her nails scored his flesh. "You're right. Get on with it!"

Sherlock thrust upwards and the small room was instantly filled with dual moans. For a split second, he regretted not preparing her better. She was wet. Very, very wet. But it seemed that he had a bit more going on in the girth department that _Tiny Tom_.

Dismissing the errant thought for much more pleasant ones, Sherlock focused his attention on his partner's face. Molly's eyes were shut tight, her head thrown back and her mouth opened wide, though no more sound escaped after her initial reaction. Were he a poetic man, he might have said she looked like a goddess. He wasn't of course, so he kept quiet. He also wasn't prepared to move just yet. Too much, too soon could be disastrous, seeing as he'd never gotten around to _giving her pleasure_, as he'd planned.

"Look at me, Molly," he said through gritted teeth, because he really, _really _wanted to move.

As her eyes fluttered opened her mouth shut with an audible snap of teeth. Tilting her head forward she said, "Move… please," her voice soft, almost pleading.

Now how could he deny such a request?

* * *

If he didn't start to properly fuck her, she was going to murder the bastard. Right here in her bathroom, Molly Hooper was going to… _I'll strangle him with the shower curtain! Bludgeon him with the toilet plunger! I'll…_

"Look at me, Molly," she heard him say and opened her eyes. Her mouth was still gaping. _I probably look a damn fish! _She snapped it shut.

Something had to give! Why was he taking so much bloody time? "Move… please." She didn't care if she sounded like she was begging. _She was! _

Gripping her hips and bottom tightly, Sherlock began moving - _thank God!_ \- because she could do little more than flex her inner muscles in her current position. He pulled out almost entirely, then thrust into her, twisting his hips on the upstroke.

"F-f-fuck!" she shouted as she clung to him. His little pelvic twist was… "Oh, that's brilliant! _You're _brilliant!" … and it was hitting her much-neglected g-spot in the most delightful way.

"That's the… general... consensus," he panted out, dropping his head to her clavicle as he continued to pound up into her.

"Don't stop!" Molly pressed her heels into his arse, clutching his head as her nails scraped at his scalp. "Don't you fucking stop!"

His speed increased at her words. He was gripping her so hard she was sure to have bruises, but she didn't care. She didn't care about anything at that moment. Not about the fact that this was a horrible idea, or that it was going to break her heart or ruin their friendship. She just wanted to…

"Come for me." His voice was low and almost desperate. "I need you to come for me, Molly. I- I can't… You _have _to come," he growled before attaching his lips to her throat, sucking her skin into his mouth and biting down.

He was grinding against her clit, filling her beautifully and holding her so tightly, Molly could almost pretend that this was more than it was. More than sex against her bathroom door. She could almost convince herself that he cared for her like she cared for him. But a little voice whispered in the back of her mind, '_He wouldn't even take you in a proper bed'_ and she felt tears pricking her eyes, ruining what could be the most beautiful moment…

"Fucking hell, Molly, I'm close. God, you feel soo..." He kissed her cheek, almost sweetly. She looked up at him for the first time since he'd entered her. "Please, love, I- I can't… you have to…" he trailed, never finishing his thought.

What she saw took her breath away, causing her to completely miss his use of the word 'love'. There was no trace of The Great Detective. The cocky persona he usually wore was nowhere to be seen. Molly couldn't even find her friend in the eyes of the man fucking her into oblivion. This was something - someone - else entirely. His hair was soaked with sweat and he was flushed pink with exertion. His lips, lips that had fascinated, tormented and abused her in equal measure, were red and swollen from their kisses. But it was his eyes that did her in. His eyes pleaded with her. Open and vulnerable in a way she'd never seen them, he silently begged her to stay with him in the moment, to... go with him.

Bringing her hand to his cheek, she cupped it, urging him closer. Sherlock compiled without hesitation and kissed her fiercely, almost possessively, all the while he never stopped moving, never stopped thrusting into her. As they broke the kiss, she whispered, "_Come, Sherlock."_ He grunted, his hips losing a bit of rhythm. "Come inside me and take me with you."

At that he seemed to lose all control. His movements became erratic, his grip even harsher. Molly closed her eyes, tossing her head back as she felt herself tensing, her body only seconds away from release. Sherlock buried his face in her neck and chanted her name. She'd never heard him say it quite like that before; it sounded like a prayer and was enough to send her over the edge. She fell, crashing, and took him with her. The feeling of his release hitting her walls prolonged her orgasm, sending fantastic aftershocks through her over sensitised nervous system.

She lost herself in pleasure, momentarily forgetting where they were, who he was… that there was an awkward conversation to be had. Molly just enjoyed the myriad of sensations she was experiencing. She felt boneless and sated. Completely and totally satisfied, which - if she were honest - wasn't always the case after sex. Exhaling, she allowed herself to indulge in their intimacy; their bodies touching almost everywhere imaginable. It wouldn't last, of course. Soon he'd revert to his old self (she feared that meant his _crueller _self) and God only knew how he'd react to what they'd just done. Even if it was his idea.

He was softening, but still inside her when she felt his lips on her jaw. Carefully, he lowered her to the floor but kept his hands on her hips as if to steady her. Molly was grateful; her legs were a bit too jelly-like for her to stand properly on her own. She kept her eyes down, focused on the tiles under her feet.

"Well, this is convenient," Sherlock said, his voice slightly amused. Then he was tugging off her shirt and tossing it to the floor.

Molly watched as he walked over to her shower, naked, and turned on the taps. After adjusting the water he faced her, holding out his hand. "Come along, Molly," was all he said before leading her into the steaming shower.

o0o0o

Thirty minutes later, the now clean couple were lying in Molly's bed; Sherlock cuddled (cuddled!?) up behind her, holding her tightly against his chest.

Molly was more confused than ever.

In the shower, he had not only been attentive and demonstrative, but quite thorough in his pursuit of her cleanliness. To describe it as pleasurable would have been a gross understatement.

He had looked at her, at her body, directing her under the spray, and Molly's automatic reaction was to cover herself. Sherlock simply shook his head as he moved her arms away from her breasts and abdomen and... gazed. A devilish smirk broke over his lips before he grabbed her lemon scented body wash and proceeded to wash her from head to toe, paying very special attention to her bottom, pelvis and breasts. He'd paused momentarily when he first had reached her left hip then glanced up, looking her in the eyes with a troubled expression. Brushing his thumbs over her hips, the concerned look still on his face, he'd studied the skin there but he never spoke. A minute or so of observation later, his eyes returned to her face and his cleaning had resumed.

Well, _cleaning _might have been a bit of a stretch...

After fingering her to another orgasm whilst his lips were attached to her freshly scrubbed nipple (who knew a loofah could be used in such a stimulating way?), Sherlock urged her back under the showerhead, wetted her hair then washed it. She told herself she'd let him, even though it was her skip day, and she hadn't planned to wash it until tomorrow. _It'll save me time. It's the least he can do_, she'd thought as his fingers massaged the shampoo into her scalp. But when he kissed her senseless as he rinsed it out, water cascading down over the both of them, all thoughts of practicality flew out of her mind.

Once finished with her, he started quickly cleaning himself, suggesting that she go ahead and get ready for bed. "I'll be out in a minute, Molly." He was out of the shower before she finished putting away her toothbrush. When she'd looked down at his cock, hard again (and so fucking tempting!) from their bathing experience, he'd just smirked and nodded towards the door.

She had taken his dismissal in stride. It was over; soon he'd be dressed and gone. Would he even say goodbye? He seemed to want to continue this… arrangement, surely he'd have something to say. All of this went through her mind as she dressed for bed, only to be shocked to find him strolling into her room as she pulled on her knickers. He, however, was as naked as he'd been when she'd left him in her bathroom.

"Do all your sleep shirts have kittens on them?" he'd asked, smiling. He was thumbing through his mobile like it was completely normal to do so in the nude. "Where's your spare charger?"

Molly had retrieved it silently from the desk next to the wardrobe, handing it to him and puzzling over what the hell was going on. He had nodded his thanks, plugged it in then hopped into bed.

That had been twenty minutes ago, according to the clock on the bedside table, and Molly was no closer to understanding what the hell was going on. Tom often spent the night, but he was… well, needy. It was one of the things that had annoyed her about him if she was honest. He also left his socks on during sex, called her 'Mollywobbles' - occasionally mid-coitus - and sometimes cried when he orgasmed. _Oh my God, I almost married him!_ she thought, before shaking it off.

Sherlock staying seemed… Okay, nothing about this night was remotely normal, but rather so far from the reality that she thought she knew, it was starting to give her a headache. Not that he hadn't stayed before, of course… _Just never snuggled up naked in my bed after shagging me silly._ Any minute now he'd either start outlining the dates, times and parameters of their new _arrangement _or shout 'gotcha', jump up and start laughing hysterically.

She didn't know how she felt about either prospect. The sex had been exhilarating. The shower had been wonderful. Being the focus of Sherlock Holmes' attention had been everything she'd ever imagined. No, it had been so much more. But she'd meant what she'd told him before. She loved him and simply couldn't sleep with him without attachment. Maybe he could do that but…

Tension had returned to her body. He'd worked so hard fucking and washing her to a state of sated lassitude and now she felt like she was about to snap. _God! How long is he going to drag this out before he says or does something awful?_

She waited and waited for that shoe to fall. Only, it never did.

Several more minutes passed in silence before she felt his hand nudge her tee shirt up, his fingertips ghosting over her hip in the process. The light was still on; oddly enough she hadn't even considered turning it off. She felt him shift and then felt the blanket being shoved lower.

"I didn't mean to hurt you," he said quietly.

Looking back over her shoulder, she found him staring, once again, at her hip. _Oh! That's what he was looking at in the shower._ "Ah…" She followed his line of sight and saw four fingertip sized pinkish-purple marks. There was a corresponding mark on the other side of her hip. Larger, the size of his thumb, this one was a deeper shade of purple. "It's fine. Doesn't hurt," she said.

"No, Molly. I mean…" He sighed. "I mean, I didn't mean…" With a shake of his head, he went back to his previous position. "Can you turn off the light?"

She reached out and flicked the bedside light off, bathing the room in darkness. Instantly, Sherlock drew her back into his chest.

"I'm going to tell you some things and you're going to listen," he said, demanded, really.

"Okay."

After a deep breath, he said, "I never meant to hurt you, Molly. I realise now that suggesting we engage in a casual, no strings attached relationship was hurtful and uncaring. To my defence, I didn't think you still felt that way for me… that you loved me. Anymore."

Somehow, she managed not to react to his words; she lay perfectly still and listened.

"We're friends, yes, but we could never be _just_ friends, could we?"

She considered her answer but still didn't respond.

"The benefits part is far too pleasurable to give up, I'm afraid." His hand wandered over her hip, his fingers teasing the edge of her pants. "I believe a different sort of arrangement is called for." He pressed his lips to her neck, kissing her, then breathing deeply before saying, "I would be honoured to have the _benefit _of your company in anyway you see fit. Casually. Seriously. Constantly. Sparingly. Whatever you're willing to give."

_He can't possibly mean… _"What are you saying, Sherlock?"

"When you asked me what I was doing in your bathroom, ravishing you…"

"I never used those words…"

"Paraphrasing. What was my response, Molly?"

Damnit, she didn't know! _That was a shag and a shower ago! Think! Think!_ "Ahh…" She felt his lips on her neck again and felt him smirk against her skin. He seemed much more at ease with the lights off and her back turned to him.

"Want some help?" he asked.

_Arse!_ "Of course I do. Some of us don't have photographic memories."

He huffed out a laugh, then the room got eerily silent once again. "I said: 'because I do too'."

Yes, okay, she remembered that now. "You were talking about wanting to have sex but you'd said that when you showed up and offered… well, what you offered."

"I wasn't, actually. I was talking about something else." He paused, softly kissing her neck as he rocked his hardening cock into her buttocks. "Although that was never far from my thoughts, I'll admit. I was talking about what _you'd _just told _me_, Molly." After another pause, he said, "Because I _do too_," again.

"You…?" she asked with a sharp inhale of breath.

"Yes."

Grinning, she threaded her fingers through his, which had moved to firmly grip her around her stomach. "Well, I see your point now. Occasional fuck buddies wouldn't work in that case."

"I'm glad we're in agreement. Though, I'd like to make a request, if I may be so bold?"

"And what's that?" If this was all just some elaborate ruse to get cadaver parts from her, she'd murder him. They'd never find his body.

"Allow me to purchase your sleepwear from now on, Molly. I cannot abide cartoon cats whilst I'm devouring you."

She giggled. "You're not devouring me now, so what's the…" Her sentence died as she found herself flat on her back, arms pinned above her head.

"You'll have the benefit of that experience as soon as I get you out of that shirt, my dear!"

Oh, the benefits just kept coming and coming.

* * *

_And that's a wrap. Thanks so much for reading. I'd love to hear your final thoughts on this one. It was a lot of fun to write. Once we're all settled in the house, I'll have more time (and my own writing room!) to dedicate to fanfic! I'm super excited. Please review, you know I love hearing from you all. Smooch! ~Lil~_


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